REVISITING FIJI and Island Friends
Once upon a time, in what now feels like a former life, I visited a small village on a remote bay in Fiji. Daku village, on Kadavu Island, used to be frequented by a steady stream of cruising sailors in search of a deep connection to the local culture, though today, it seems to have dropped off of most Pacific cruisers’ radars. Just an overnight sail away from the bustle of Fiji’s main island of Viti Levu, Daku was full of happy memories for me of a time spent anchored off the village decades ago while I was cruising on Mahina Tiare, a 31-foot Hallberg-rassy sloop.
For years, I’d dreamed of returning, but time passed and life got in the way. Then a happy coincidence appeared in the form of an email from a friend who had recently visited Daku. She photographed my entry on the first page of the Daku yacht log. The entry was like a message in a bottle from my former self, reminding me that I’d written in the logbook that I would return one day. My former cruising partner and I had started the log for our Daku friends, Epi and Kata Ravono, 25 years ago.
With just this email, the plan for going back to Fiji was set in motion. But this time, since I no longer have a cruising boat, it would be on a charter boat — my maiden charter experience as a passenger rather than crew or boat owner. We chose a crewed charter aboard
Stellar, a 49-foot Jeanneau Sun Odyssey, which we found online. More than a simple vacation, I wanted to use this trip as a chance to introduce my partner, Bill; my sister, Pam; and my brother-in-law, Jim, to traditional Fijian culture and my long-ago Fijian friends. Stellar was the magic carpet to transport us.
Shortly after stepping aboard, we left Port Denarau, on the island of Viti Levu’s west shore, and were comfortably motoring toward Tavarua Pass, destination: Daku village. Our Fijian crew — Julian May, the skipper; Eroni, our talented cook; and George, the friendly first mate — added immensely to our Fijian immersion over the ensuing week. And we, by sailing to a traditional village, were about to add to theirs.
Steele Jones, Stellar’s Kiwi owner, recommended Julian to captain our charter because of his familiarity with Kadavu Island. Still, up until we stepped aboard, Steele tried to change our course. Thinking our proposed passage into trade winds would be too uncomfortable, he asked, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to the nearby Mamanucas or Yasawas?”
Forget discomfort! I thought. While napping on our long flight to Fiji, I’d dreamed we were sailing to Kadavu and remarked to myself while asleep, “Oh, it’s so calm.” My dream turned out to be prophetic. The typical 12- to 16-knot east-southeast trades were not blowing that morning, so Julian suggested we make a beeline for Kadavu. We found Daku Bay on his chart plotter, and he entered the coordinates to the anchorage.
The worldly Julian told us, “I grew up speaking English. I tried to learn Fijian in school but instead spent too much time mucking about in boats.” His passion for boats had taken him all over the world. Moreover, when The Moorings had a base in Fiji, Julian led the bareboat flotillas, including one with Cruising
World editors. “I would be leading four or five boats, with a chase boat behind us,” Julian said. “I’d tell them, ‘Follow me. I know where the unmarked reefs are.’ Once in a while, someone would wander off and end up on a reef. They’d say, ‘That reef isn’t on the chart,’ after they’d hit it!”
This is the main reason that bareboat chartering in Fiji ended back in the mid-1990s. Since then, chart plotters, updated charts and excellent cruising guides have fortunately made it easier for cruising yachts to visit, and there are several options for crewed charters.
As we passed the world-renowned surfing spot Cloudbreak on our port side, it appeared as a translucent aqua band topped by thin, white spume, with surfers dotting its moving face. Behind, the dry, golden California-like hills of Fiji’s Coral Coast on Viti Levu provided a backdrop contrast. It was the last we saw of any other pleasure boats or tourists for almost a week.
Just after we transited Tavarua Pass outside the reef, a fat blue-green yellowfin tuna hit one of our fishing lines and was quickly reeled in by the crew. Then, the singing of three nylon lines unspooling at once was followed by pandemonium as George, Bill and Jim simultaneously reeled in three 20- to 25-pound skipjack tunas.
Zing! Another line spooled out as afternoon tea was served. Wahoo on the line! Jim fought to bring in the long-billed fish. We were motorsailing as a band of thick purplish clouds clustered low on the horizon to starboard. A squall hit suddenly with 20 knots of wind, and the rain felt like needles. As we flew along at 8 knots, another fish struck — this time a beautiful dorado.
“Six fish in four hours,” I said. “Maybe the villagers are praying for us.” In truth, Julian was somewhat of a fish whisperer. This wasn’t meant to be a fishing charter, but our Fijian crew loved to fish. The charter was becoming as much our crew’s trip as ours, which was as it should be.
Early the next morning, the engine’s rpma changed and sails were furled. I automatically shot up on deck. It was strange for me to sleep through most of the night and not stand watch. Years of cruising on Mahina Tiare and teaching sail training on Alaska Eagle had ingrained in me the need to help on deck when something changed. I put on shoes, grabbed a flashlight and made my way forward to help Eroni as he lowered the anchor chain. I was incredulous that we passed through the unmarked reef in inky darkness!
Morning revealed our anchorage was actually outside the reef. Smart move,i thought. Julian admitted that he’d never been into Daku Bay before and, wisely, he had entered the coordinates for the bay outside the complicated reef system.
Just after we transited Tavarua Pass outside the reef, a fat blue-green yellowfin tuna hit one of our fishing lines.